Unmasked- Act 1- Issue 7- How You Became a Supervillain
by Thedude2222
Summary: A Gotham novel detailing the end of the legend of Batman.


**Issue 7:**

How You Become a Supervillain

[An excerpt from the manifesto of The Wrench]

When every day is the worst day since yesterday you have to start asking yourself hard questions. Have you ever been happy or were the good times simply temporary diversions you foolishly believed would last? It has to be a majority of people who look around to find they're nowhere near where they wanted to be in life. This leads to a much deeper and more disturbing fact of life; it doesn't give a shit about who you are or what you want. Life has its requirements that you meet or don't.

If you meet them you can keep living, and if you don't you fall along the wayside. You'll find no court of appeals or pathways to justice. It's no wonder society these days grasps at straws attempting to carve out a "safe space" for themselves. A logical person recognizes there are no guarantees or safety nets in life. Echo chambers are like water wings in the open ocean. However going with the flow and acquiescing to the masses isn't any better than hiding away from it.

Let's take you for example. The worst part about you is you probably think you're moderately intelligent, and yet every day you make terrible decisions in your life that you justify with bullshit excuses. You read a newspaper or blog and thing you're now qualified to discuss politics or economics or science. The technology and instantaneous knowledge at your fingertips give you the confidence you need to feel superior in your opinions but don't worry. No one will out you because everyone else is just as ignorant.

You're fat. Guess what? Everyone knows and you hate yourself for it. Once a social snorter you're now chasing pills in the middle of the week. Before the parent/teacher conference you're like a scientist working on the equation to deduce how many drinks it takes to make it tolerable but not so many that you're fall down drunk. You're a materialistic prick. At least your alcoholic neighbor has the common decency to hang his head in shame. Instead you parade your flaw through the world like it's a virtue.

As penance you should be forced to personally destroy everything you're proud of until you realize just how empty you are. You look for the best in everyone and exude positivity. You're a fucking coward. Desperately you search for anything good because you fear. You fear the widening abyss in your own heart. You know once you cross that line and step into darkness you'll never come back. It's so much easier to deny the pain than look it in the eye.

I know each and every one of you. I've heard all your stories. I could recite back to you every bullshit excuse you've ever made for yourself. Most of you contribute nothing to the world around you, and it's always you assholes who scream the loudest about your imagined insults. If a plague wiped out ninety percent of the population it could only be considered an improvement. With so many useless people in the world the only thing that makes me smile is that somewhere deep down you know it too.

Maybe our restlessness stems from our inability to change or make change. We look to heroes to save us never once considering the fact that we never try to save ourselves. This anger for everything burns in me like a tire fire. Unending it burns for years until it dies down leaving ash and apathy. If harnessed it could power the world and instead it destroys me. Someone once said madness is only one bad day away but I think it's more like Groundhog's Day. It's a lifetime of one bad day repeated in perpetuity.

It's like a frozen TV dinner of Salisbury steak infused with powdered glass, and every night you eat it until eventually you get sick. Then the damage becomes clear and you realize there's nothing in the world that can heal you. No one wants to be the bad guy. In fact no one ever is when they tell you their story. These realizations don't change who I am, the decisions I've made, or the disappointments I've experienced. I'd give it all away to be ignorant of everything, to be happy, but there's a point where you can't go back.

Even this explanation won't be enough after what I'm going to do. The first thing everyone will ask is why. Like there would ever be a reason you'd accept that wasn't your own. So I'll give you a taste of the gradual decline to insanity and to many of you it won't seem that bad. So many of you have it even worse I have no doubt. I pay my bills, buy my food, and occasionally go out and do something special. However do I feel contentment or satisfaction? The bare necessities in life are cold comfort when that alarm sounds at 5:30am.

Join me, readers, for the day that finally kills your soul, a day more widely known to the world as Tuesday.

Before we begin let's establish the setting. You live in a small cul-de-sac on the shitty side of town. Your home cost a bit more than you expected and every mortgage statement makes you sweat. You're the kind of asshole who mows his lawn at 8:30am Saturday morning, a real upstanding citizen and homeowner. Myself on the other hand I'm your neighbor who rents his house therefor I don't give a shit about anything or anyone. My yard grows unhindered all summer until it's knee high.

The dandelions spread like an untreated STI into your well-manicured, suburban fantasy. I'm your neighbor whose dogs howl at 3:00am every morning when I leave for my late shift. If you want we can consider this the true start of your day. If by some miracle you fall back asleep 5:30am will be here soon enough. You awake to the alarm in the darkness because not even the sun is dumb enough to get up this early. All you have time for is a quick shower and something to eat in the car. The bathroom radio notifies you of an accident on the freeway.

You lock the door positive that tonight is the night you come home to a break in. With luck you'll catch them in the act so they can shoot you on their way out. Angrily your car fights the starter and a check engine light pops up on your dash. The interstate is a nightmare of gridlock. Nothing in your entire day makes you feel like a caged animal like getting trapped in traffic. Dead stops lead to three mile an hour crawls back to dead stops until you want to jump out, cross three lanes on foot, and run until your heart literally explodes in your chest.

When you reach the bottleneck you see three mangled cars spread across two lanes. Ambulances and cruisers light up the scene and you see a woman in a neck brace on a stretcher being loaded into an ambulance. Most anyone would cringe or empathize, but you've seen it too many times so you stare blankly and feel nothing. The only thought that passes through your head is a mild curiosity as to how many days she'll get off work before they throw all her personal items in the dumpster out back.

Unfortunately you still have thirty minutes before you reach the office. You spend the rest of your trip imagining which brands of antidepressants the morning DJs use and how to get them. The thermostat for your office floor hasn't registered a correct temperature in years, so in the summer it's blistering hot while winters are unapologetically cold. Corporate doesn't give a shit and your boss has no spine. Your job is as meaningless as your life. Fielding calls for a major cable company your phone never stops ringing. Assholes from across the country remind you every ten minutes that your company is in shambles and they're right.

"I couldn't pay my bill this month because my dad had foot surgery."

"Your commercials are too loud, so I called my lawyer and…"

"Pat Sajak sent me a secret message during Wheel to call in and talk to him."  
"It's Bush's fault!"

"It's Obama's fault!"

"It's the next moron-in-chief's fault!" This is the majority of your day until they bring

you in for a staff meeting. After months of waiting layoffs have finally been decided and somehow you're one of the few who gets to stay. They tell you to be happy, be grateful, and by the way your workload is about to double. When you point out that what you already have can't be finished in a day no one seems to care. Back at your closet sized cubicle your coworker Rusty brays like a donkey laughing and reminds you for the third time this month that it's just like Office Space. He's right except for the fact that none of it is remotely funny.

As you sit at your desk staring beyond your dual monitors you notice the walls are grey and so are the bathrooms. The floors and conference rooms are all painted beige. In fact anything with color across the building is some variation of grey or beige. Around you people pack their desks and take down pictures. You realize you're not even sure of most of their first names. Something inside you whispers.

"They're people with families, homes, and real lives. They get put out like dogs. Are you going to live in a world like that?" You think as you clench your hands into fists. So you think about the plans laid out at your house. You think of the empty bottles and gas cans. You think of the mask.

Every one of your remaining coworkers has a reason to leave early: kids, husband, wife, or doctor's appointment. They look to you to stay late and wrap up a few things they were working on so you do. Juggling problems and demands you notice the clock to discover you should have left thirty minutes ago. The boss will want to speak with you again tomorrow about working overtime.

On the way home you're pulled over for failure to signal. The cop lets you off with a warning this time, but now your car won't start and he leaves you on the berm of the highway to wait for a tow. Two hours and two hundred dollars later you're dropped at your house with a car no better than scrap at this point. Unfortunately criminals still haven't shown up to shoot you. After burning your chicken and rice in the microwave you sit down and watch celebrities dancing on the TV. You fall asleep on the couch until waking at 12:45am with a start. Dragging yourself to bed for no specific reason you ache for a good night's sleep.

At 3:00am the dogs begin to howl.

When the alarm scares you awake at 5:30am the only thing you can think about is the mask.


End file.
